Danny made a face at her comment about his music—excuse you, my tastes are awesome—then immediately covered it with his hands when she launched into that joke.

Why, Fiyori. Why. He could take other jokes at his expense, but why'd she have to go right there?

Still, he tried to pass it off like it didn't bug him. “Yeah, I'm real torn up about it. Sometimes I cry about it late at night.” He uncovered his face, although his cheeks had gone pink, and stuck out his tongue. “I'll live.”

Truth be told, Danny still liked Fiyori a lot. Not like-like, not anymore, but he thought she was fun. She was funny. And the relationship had been somewhere between warm enough to stay all nice and cuddly and stuff, but without getting over-bearing and dramatic and clingy and all that.

He probably would have stuck with it longer than it did if Fiyori hadn't tried to push things a little further. He'd thought he'd be okay with it—why was he never okay with it—but then it just felt so wrong, and he panicked, made an excuse to leave and dumped her over text message. He'd then proceeded to avoid her for fear of retaliation.

That had been a while ago.

Now, with his leg still rebelling against the idea of getting up—although he didn't think it was broken—he was torn between trying to crawl away before she got any closer or hoping that if he pretended nothing had ever happened that she would too. Sometimes girls didn't hold grudges. He'd reconnected friendships a couple of times, usually when they ambushed him to tell him that it was a douchey thing to do but fuck it. But… sometimes they did hold grudges. Most of the time, really.